The Spanish Outlaw

by Higgins, Marie

  “Oh,” she shouted, then spun in a half-circle and marched into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  He listened for a lock, and thankfully did not hear the metallic click. He chuckled. Yes, this journey would be exciting one way or another.

  He walked into the kitchen and picked up Vivian’s cooling cup of coffee from the table before gulping it down. After she packed, he planned on returning to his townhouse to gather his belongings and the money he’d saved for this very day. Since leaving Spain, he had known it would only be a matter of time before he returned.

  Leaning his hip against the table, he scanned the kitchen and front room. Vivian kept her little cottage tidy, but it didn’t look as if a woman had decorated it. He strode into the front room to the worn cushioned chair beside the fireplace, and on the floor was a permanently dirt-stained throw rug just inside the front door. Pictures on the walls were of mountains, not of frilly flowers as he’d expected.

  He snooped through the rest of the house, which only consisted of one more room besides her bedroom. The door to the unknown room remained shut, so he turned the handle and opened it. The faint smell of tobacco hung in the air, and the scent of dust tickled his nose and he sneezed.

  He assumed the other male who lived with her had been a brother or a father. By the inch-thick layer of dust on the old wooden drawers, he surmised the occupant had been absent from the home for a while.

  Once he closed the door softly, Anton stepped to Vivian’s door and listened. For somebody who was supposed to be packing, she certainly wasn’t making any noise.

  “Vivian? Are you almost ready?”

  From the other side of the door, she growled. He smiled, loving her feisty mood.

  “No, I’m not. It’s only been about five minutes.”

  “You are so quiet in there, I wondered if you were done.”

  “I know you’ll be disappointed to hear this, but when I’m dressing, I don’t make a lot of noise.”

  He chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

  “No. I’ve been doing just fine for twenty-two years, thank you.”

  He ran his finger alongside the doorframe. “Vivian?”

  “What is it now?”

  He steadied his voice to a serious tone. “How long ago did your father die?”

  Once again, silence lagged on the other side of the door, but he waited patiently for her answer, hoping that it didn’t upset her too much to talk about it.

  “One year,” came the faint reply.

  “I am sorry. How did he die?”

  “He worked in the mines in West Virginia. He contracted a lung disease from the coal that slowly ate away at his body. We moved here before he died.”

  “Are you his only child?”

  “No. I have an older brother. Matthew lives in Philadelphia.”

  “Where is your mother?”

  Silence stretched again, but Anton waited.

  “She ran out on the family and left with another man when I turned ten. I haven’t seen her since.”

  His heart broke. He’d never known such a thing. But then, this wasn’t his country and things were vastly different here.

  He flattened his hand on the door, mentally reaching out to her for comfort. “My apologies. I did not realize.”

  “Of course you didn’t. Nobody did. I mean, mothers aren’t supposed to leave their families and seek a new life with other men, are they? She took away my childhood, and made me wait on a sickly father and lazy brother.”

  “Oh, Vivian...”

  “Do not pity me, Anton.” Her voice turned harsh. “The situation shaped who I am today.”

  “Sí, you are very independent.”

  “Indeed, I am.”

  “I will not speak of the matter again.” He pulled away from the door and returned to the front room, and sat on the sofa.

  What a strong woman Vivian was. It explained why she was so stubborn and spoke her mind. He smiled. He wouldn’t have her any other way.

  On the small table next to him sat a framed mini-portrait of an older man. Must be her father. Same smile, same oval-shaped face, and identical eyes. The man’s smile warmed Anton’s heart.

  Strange to think their lives were similar. She, growing up without a mother, and he being raised most of his life without his father. His mother and nanny had raised him.

  Mi niňera! Excited, he bolted off the chair. He’d forgotten about her. Because he hadn’t lived with his father until he was fifteen, his old nanny could identify him and attest he was not an illegitimate son. The old woman would be an enormous help in fighting the many lies his uncle had spread. Of course, Anton would have to do some serious searching to find her because after he left for war, they’d lost touch. Trying to find her might delay things, but it was worth the chance.

  A movement from out the window caught his attention. He dove to the floor and crouched, barely peeking over the bottom of the windowsill to look out. Blackness filled the yard. Not even the moon helped his vision, but he concentrated on the shadows, the trees, and wind-blown leaves drifting over the ground.

  Searching the grounds surrounding Vivian’s house, he studied every inch, hoping to discover what he’d seen. After a few moments, there was another movement. Long wavy wheat colored hair streamed in the breeze as Vivian darted behind a tree. He groaned and fisted his hand.

  The little tart was running from him! He should have guessed her intentions wouldn’t be good once he told her of their travel plans.

  Springing into action, he dashed out the door and chased after her. When she spotted him, she screamed and ran faster, but he outpaced her. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She tripped and fell, and he followed her down, covering her with his body.

  “Blast you, Anton!” she yelled, striking his chest with her fists. “Get off of me you big brute.”

  He took hold of her hands and pinned them to the ground above her head. Her chest heaved in a quick rhythm against his. Glancing down at her clothes, he noticed the man’s black shirt. He also remembered seeing the black trousers that molded to her legs only moments ago.

  “You fool. What do you think to accomplish by running?” he snapped.

  “I—I—I feel I need to tell my employer where I’m going. He will be worried if I disappear without a word.”

  Irritable, Anton shook his head. “Have you forgotten so soon? Informing your employer, Mr. Pinkerton, is not a wise idea. He will then tell my uncle. If I am to locate the verifications necessary to produce my true identity, my uncle cannot know where we are going.”

  Quick breaths came from her as she met his gaze. Confusion crossed her lovely features, and he waited for her answer.

  “I—I—I never thought of that.”

  “Please trust me, Vivian. I will prove my innocence. You just need to give me more time.”

  He swept his gaze over the lines creasing her face, but with her wild hair framing her head, she looked very tempting. He liked seeing her this way, except without the look of hatred blazing in her eyes.

  “Vivian? May I ask you a question?”

  She shrugged.

  He scowled. “Do you believe me? Or do you still think my uncle is the one being truthful?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because if you believed me, you would not have run. You would want to come with me to help clear my name and free me from my uncle’s false charges.”

  She blinked, her cheeks growing red. “I do want to believe you, Anton. Truly, I do.”

  Her words reflected a different story than her expression, and he could read her well. Disappointment crushed his chest. She really didn’t believe him.

  It hurt, and he wasn’t prepared for the stab of pain, like a knife through his heart. But for some reason, she wanted him to think she believed.

  What game did she play with him now?

  Chapter Five

  It shocked Vivian that Anton didn’t bind or gag her. Not only wouldn’t he let her out of his sight
, she wasn’t allowed to go as much as three inches away. But, she could not admit defeat. Instead, she’d make him believe somehow that traveling to Spain with him was an excellent idea, even though she really didn’t want to go. After all, what other way could she discover the truth if not following him across the ocean? And, since she didn’t really believe him, she needed to find the true story. He was hiding something, she just knew it.

  With a groan, she realized going with him surpassed her call of duty. Then again, she really wasn’t an agent. Did the other agents go to such great lengths to close their cases?

  She tried to convince herself this was a good thing. After all, if Anton was telling the truth, Mr. Pinkerton would be very impressed with her for proving Juanito Ballí false, and her employer would definitely promote her to an agent status.

  Anton had taken her back into Upper Manhattan to his townhouse and pulled her inside just as the sun came up, announcing a new day. Eyes drooping and weary with fatigue, she stepped into the hallway and gasped. This man lived in luxury, but he was an opera singer. She sincerely hoped his money came from his opera career, not his uncle’s fortune.

  With her heart pounding in an unknown panic, she followed him through the hallway, upstairs. A few servants stood back and watched but didn’t look at all shocked. With his fingers grasped around her wrist, he brought her into a room and shut the door. Closed curtains hung over the windows, so he lit the lamp nearest to the door, illuminating his glorious chambers.

  Never in her life had she been in a man’s bedroom. Except for her father’s, of course. She sucked in a quick breath and took in everything around her. Walls covered in moss-green damask, the bedroom filled with Hepplewhite furniture, close to the same that adorned Mr. Pinkerton’s house. A small marble-topped table stood positioned beside an Empire sofa decorated with gold-painted seashells. In the corner of the room sat his bed. His very large bed. All in white with its twist posts and damask hangings.

  “I suggest you relax, mi dulce. We are staying here until we obtain passage to Spain.”

  Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak. “Anton, there is no way I’m going to stay in the same room as you. It’s not proper at all, and you know it.”

  He laughed and walked across the room to the window. Parting the curtains only a scant, he peered outside. The morning sun shone through. “In time you will see it differently, I promise. Do not think of it as indecent.” His gaze met hers. “Merely remember I am protecting you.”

  As he loosened his cravat, his grin stretched across his tempting mouth. Her heartbeat took on a different rhythm.

  “What are you doing?” she said, breathless.

  “I am making myself comfortable.”

  “Not like that, you’re not.”

  “Sí, I am.”

  “Anton, I really must protest!”

  Ignoring her, he shrugged out of his overcoat and waistcoat then loosened his shirt. With a gasp, she turned her head away so as not to see his naked chest, fearing it would be as muscular as she had imagined. Nothing could sway her, especially this sensual man who constantly tried to charm her.

  A full-length mirror in the corner of the room caught her attention, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from studying his reflection as he undressed. Oh, glory! The sight of his bare chest caused her throat to dry. Her hands itched to graze the black hair sprinkled over him, so she quickly balled her hands into fists to keep from acting out.

  Her cheeks burned, so she squeezed her eyes closed, but his magnificent image remained in her mind. Suddenly, his masculine scent in the room surrounded her, quickening her breathing.

  Folding her arms across stomach, she concentrated on the anger she’d forgotten. How dare he not allow her to contact Margaret? At least her companion should know Vivian was in no immediate danger. Anton was such a demanding man, and she had to keep in mind he was a thief, the outlaw her agency had been trying to find for months.

  True, she’d told him she believed his story, but deep inside her, doubt niggled at her, reminding her of the obvious holes in his explanation. Unfortunately, she must pretend to trust him. Until she could expose the truth.

  The low rumble of his chuckle made her disregard her thoughts, and she glanced back into the mirror. He’d just finished pulling on another shirt. The material could be almost transparent if she concentrated hard enough. His laughter grew, and she lifted her gaze to meet his in the mirror.

  “Did your innocent eyes catch something they should not have, my dear?”

  Embarrassment washed over her in a heated wave and burned her cheeks. Quickly, she turned away, but there was no way he could have missed her humiliation. The soft tap at his door made her forget her mortification. Saying a silent prayer, she hoped for someone to rescue her from this handsome, sensual, brute. Yet the blunt truth was nobody could save her. She had to stay by his side until she could get him back to Mr. Pinkerton.

  Anton hurried to the door. “Who is it?” he asked as he rested his hand on the knob.

  “It is I, Pedro.”

  Vivian’s heart dropped. He certainly wouldn’t help her.

  Anton quickly let in the man, closed the door, and walked to his desk. “Did anyone follow you?”

  “No.”

  A sigh escaped Anton. “Good.” From his money pouch, he pulled out a fistful of gold coins. “I need you to book two passages on the next ship sailing for Spain. I think the booths will be opening soon. If not, use my connections to get tickets posthaste.”

  “Sí, Anton.” Pedro took the money and slipped the heavy coins inside his coat pocket. “I will do it immediately.”

  “Pedro?” Vivian called to him before he reached the door. “How is Margaret? You remember, my friend at the party?”

  He hesitated while his hand rested on the doorknob. “She is safe at home.”

  “Promise?”

  “Do not worry. She is well.” Pedro grinned.

  Vivian sighed. “Will you send her a note for me and tell her what has happened? I don’t want her to worry.”

  Pedro glanced at Anton for approval, but Anton shook his head. Without another word, Pedro left.

  Anger surged through her, and she marched to Anton, her arms planted on her hips. “Why did you tell him no? Margaret is going to be livid.”

  “I have already taken care of that. Pedro informed your friend you are with me, but did not tell her where we are going. I do not want her running to the Pinkerton Agency and informing them of our whereabouts.”

  “You can be a cruel and heartless man, Anton.”

  He grinned. “No, but you keep believing that, and maybe it will help you with your unwholesome thoughts toward me a minute ago when I caught you peeking in the mirror.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How dare you—”

  “Querida.” He stepped to her. “I am not blind. The proof is right here on your scarlet cheeks.” His fingers brushed softly on that heated spot, but she slapped them away.

  “I’m not going to be attracted to you any longer. If we’re going to be in such close quarters from now until we reach Spain, we must maintain some professionalism.”

  “That sounds awfully boring, and will make for one tedious excursion.”

  She pursed her lips, knowing she would agree with him if she didn’t keep remembering her business manner.

  “I think you should get a little sleep,” he said. “We will travel to the docks at night, which will keep us hidden better.”

  She stifled a yawn. “I do feel tired. But I’m not about to undress in front of you. Would you kindly step outside?”

  “No. I do not trust you by yourself, especially if there are windows that can be easily opened.”

  She arched a brow. Apparently, she wasn’t trying hard enough to convince him that she trusted him. “But we are on the second floor. I’m not about to jump out of a second story window. Besides that, it won’t be proper if you stay here while I undress.”

  “I am not going an
ywhere, and I promise not to peek as you did.” He chuckled.

  Once again, her face flamed. She glanced to the full-length mirror and realized if she could stand behind it, that would be her only protection. Unfortunately, the room did not have a dressing screen, so the mirror would just have to do.

  She marched to the bed and yanked open her bag, grabbing the flannel nightgown on top. Stubbornly, she lifted her chin and moved behind the mirror. True to his word, Anton turned his back to give her more privacy.

  This time undressing became easier because she wore men’s attire, and soon she had wiggled into her nightgown and settled it over her body. After bunching up her clothes, she took them to the bed and stuffed the garments in the satchel.

  Without asking his permission, she drew down the blankets and crawled into his bed, pulling the cover high up her neck. His masculine scent of spice surrounded her, making her head light.

  Anton glanced over his shoulder at her. A grin spread across his handsome face.

  “Try and rest, Vivian. It is uncertain right now when we will leave for Spain.”

  She nodded as he settled in the heavily cushioned chair beside the bed.

  “Buenas noches, Vivian. Even if it is actually morning.” He chuckled as he turned off the lamp.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, but images of his naked chest popped into her head. Silently, she groaned. Working side by side with him would be pure torture...and their adventure hadn’t even begun.

  * * * *

  Anton bolted straight up in his chair, blinking away the sleep that crept upon him. A noise had awakened him, but as he searched the shadows in the darkened room and listened, he couldn’t tell what brought him alert. On stiff legs, he moved to the window and peered through the slits of the heavy drapes. The afternoon’s sun made him squint as he looked down at the street in front of the townhouse. Merchants peddled their wares while children played near their nannies. Horses pulled wagons and conveyances, their hooves and the wheels crunching on the ground as they passed.